


Paying Debts

by Liethe



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liethe/pseuds/Liethe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandry and Briar meet, under larcenous circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paying Debts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whoistorule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoistorule/gifts).



“Stop! Thief!”

Sandry was just climbing out of the back of the taxi, when she heard the shout, recognising the voice of Bill, her building's doorman. No sooner had she identified the voice,than someone ran headlong into her. Blinking in confusion, she looked up into a pair of wide, hazel eyes, just long enough to see the fear in them, before looking away again.

 Becoming aware of cold and damp, she looked down to see that her shirt was covered in damp soil, the moisture soaking down to her skin. The boy who had crashed into her was holding a flower pot. Some of the soil had spilled during their collision, and the miniature tree growing from the pot looked sad and bedraggled, although Sandry wasn't sure how much of that could be blamed on the impact; there were a number of curled, dead leaves barely clinging on to their branches, indicating that the plant hadn't exactly been healthy to start with.

 “You stole _this_?” Sandry asked, realising that this boy was the thief Bill had been shouting about.

 “So what if I did?” the boy asked, and turned as if to carry on running. Bill had nearly made it to them, panting heavily from his dash to catch up with the fleeing thief. Without thinking, Sandry took the boy's arm.

 “There's no way anyone should get in trouble for stealing something so dumb,” she whispered. “Don't worry, I'll get you out of this.” Before the boy could object, or try to shake free of her grip and run anyway, Sandry turned to face Bill, pasting a mask of haughty indignation on her face, before speaking.

 “What on earth is going on here? My clothes are ruined!”

Bill, not yet realising that her ire was directed at him, and not the boy, smiled ingratiatingly at Sandry.

 “I'm terribly sorry, Miss Toren. I caught this boy stealing one of old Mr Crane's plants. I'll take it from here." He reached towards the boy, but Sandry quickly stepped forward, putting herself between them.

 “Thief? This is the new gardener my mother hired. He graciously offered to take this poor thing home with him, and give it the care and attention it needs. You know how Mr Crane loves his bonsai trees. It's been worrying him so much that this one isn't doing so well.”

 “Gardener?” Incredulousness was warring with chagrin on Bill's face. Sandry could see that he didn't quite believe her story, so before he had time to consider just exactly how likely it was that even Sandry's family – new to the area, but already known both for their immense wealth, and for the variety of silly things they found to spend it on – would bother to hire a gardener to care for the scant handful of potted plants on their balcony, Sandry quickly carried on.

 “If you don't believe me, then we'll just go and talk to Mr Crane now. I'm sure he won't mind us interrupting his afternoon nap so that you can explain exactly why one of his precious bonsai trees, one which was already sickly, I might add, has been damaged because you decided to chase our new gardener down the street with it. Why, you're lucky he didn't drop it!”

 With one last scowl at the boy, Bill gave in.

 “I'm sure that won't be necessary. I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, Mr...”

 “Moss.”

 “Mr Moss. I'll be sure to look for your name in the approved visitors register,” he said, with a meaningful look at Sandry, before he turned to go back to his post.

 As the pair watched him walk away, they were both surprised that Briar didn't seize the opportunity to finish the escape Sandry had interrupted. Instead he turned to Sandry just as she opened her mouth to speak.

"What's your name?" She asked him, "I'm not going to call you Mr Moss."

"Briar," he said, grudgingly.

"I'm Sandry," she beamed back at him, holding a hand out for him to shake. He hesitated, before shifting the tree so that he held it in just one arm, and clasping her hand briefly with his spare hand. Realising that his hands were covered in soil from holding the pot, he pulled away quickly, rubbing his grubby palm against trousers which were hardly cleaner, now that Sandry had a chance to look at him more closely. She pulled out a handkerchief to wipe her own hand, offering it to Briar once she was finished, but putting it away again when he laughed and shook his head.

"Do I look like the kind of guy who's worried about a little mess?" He asked. Sandry thought, privately, that he looked like the kind of guy that could stand to worry a little more about his appearance. His clothes were worn and frayed in a way that made her fingers itch for a darning needle.

"I guess not," she admitted.

“So what do you want?” he asked, startling her with his abrupt manner.

 “Well, a thank you might be nice,” she responded, primly.

 “I'm serious. What do you want? People don't do what you just did unless there's something in it for them.”

 “They don't? Well, I guess I must not be 'people' then." She smiled a suspiciously innocent smile at Briar, before carrying on, in a teasing tone. "What could I possibly want from _you_ , anyway?”

 “Hey! I'm good for all sorts of things. There's plenty of people who'd love to have me owing them a favour.”

 “Well, I didn't help you so that you'd owe me a favour, but since you insist on paying me back... how about a drink?”

 “A drink? If you want someone to go to the corner store and pick you up a six pack, you're looking at the wrong guy. Old Joe'd hook you up, he normally sleeps a few streets over, but I don't do that. Or I wouldn't, if I was old enough. As it happens, I'm not, so I couldn't even if I wanted to. But I don't.”

 The ' _so there'_ seemed to hang silently on the end of the sentence, so much so that Sandry almost expected him to stick his tongue out at her, like some of her younger cousins often did, when using that particular tone of voice. She suppressed a smile. If he was trying to seem tough, he was definitely failing.

“Actually, I meant we should go get a drink _together._ I'm new here, and it would be nice to get to know someone local. Do you know if there's a coffee shop around here, or maybe a juice bar?”

 “Do I look like the sort of person that hangs out in juice bars?” Briar asked scornfully. “Actually, I'm new here too, so if it's local knowledge you want, then you're out of luck.”

 “Even better!” Sandry clapped her hands together in excitement. “We can explore together. Once we've stashed your... um... contraband, that is.” She gestured towards the bonsai tree.

 “Are you kidding? After what I went through to get it, I'm not letting this thing out of my sight.”

 “Fine, we'll take it with us, but you're carrying it. Why did you steal it anyway? I didn't think that bonsai trees were worth much, especially not sick ones.”

 “I wasn't planning on trying to fence it. I'm going to keep it. It was sad where it was,” Briar said, defensively, “and I didn't think anyone would miss it.”

 “You clearly don't know Mr Crane if you think he wouldn't miss one of his precious trees. But that still doesn't explain why you took it.”

 “I _told_ you,” Briar said, “it was sad. Now, come on. I pay my debts quick. You want a drink? Let's go get you a drink. Then we're even.” He scowled as he looked at her, as if expecting her to object to the idea of letting him off so easily, but she just smiled and took his free hand in hers, leading him down the street in search of a drink.

 Though she knew Briar would have denied it if she'd asked him, Sandry had the feeling that this would be the start of a beautiful friendship.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first AU fic I've ever written, so I hope it's ok. Merry Yule!


End file.
